Boy Shattered

by Eli Easton

I couldn’t resist reaching out to him. I put my hand around the back of his neck and brought our foreheads together. How much more did Brian have to deal with? It wasn’t fair that he had to fight this battle too.

  “Well, you just came out to me,” I said, eyes closed. “So you’re no longer in the closet. Congrats.”

  I started to pull back, but then Brian’s hand slid up my arm to my neck. I froze. A flush of warmth went through me, head to toe, waking my body up despite the seven-hour car ride. My pulse started racing, and my groin tightened.

  Stop it. Stop that this minute. This is a solidarity hug, nothing more.

  Even if Brian was gay, that didn’t mean he liked me that way. Only now I felt awkward as hell, partially leaning into him, partially pulling away. I finished sitting back, but I left my hand on his neck. And his hand ended up on my shoulder as if he wasn’t sure if he should remove it.

  We looked at each other. My mouth went dry.

  “So…,” I said, my voice thick. “I guess when you asked me to kiss you that day, I sort of blew it. You must have been disappointed.”

  “I wasn’t disappointed,” Brian said quickly. “It meant a lot.” He looked nervous. His gaze dropped to my mouth. “But if you’re saying you want a do-over….”

  He sounded breathless. I noticed his chest was rising and falling like he’d been doing sprints. He was into this. And, God, I’d wanted to kiss him for a very long time. I wasn’t going to throw away the chance.

  I leaned in, and he leaned in, and I pressed my lips firmly to his. It made my chest ache with feeling. A slow wave of warmth went through me.

  Someone sighed.

  I pulled back and looked at him. He gave me a nervous smile. “Better. Should I be grading this? Like an Olympic sport?”

  “Shut up,” I said.

  I tugged him in, and he tugged me in, and this time when we kissed, there was warm, wet heat and tongues and a surge of passion that made me lose my head. We kissed and kissed, a languid, sucking rhythm. It went on until every part of me was awake and tingling with an urge for more—more contact, more skin, more of everything.

  It was almost a surprise to find that, when Brian turned his head away, we were only sitting next to each other on the bed. Only touching where our hands were on each other’s necks, nothing more. Still fully clothed. But in my head, it had been so much more than just a kiss.

  I released him and sat back against the headboard. I was glad I was still wearing jeans and resisted the need to adjust myself. Brian’s face was flushed, and his eyes were dreamy.

  Looking at him wasn’t gonna help me cool down. So I scooted farther over to my side of the bed. I bent my knees and put my hands in my lap. From my peripheral vision, I could see him do the same.

  We sat there for a minute, both staring straight ahead, while our breathing slowed.

  I started to worry. And build back up my boxes.

  Just because Brian was gay and wanted to experience a gay kiss, that didn’t mean he wanted to be my boyfriend. Or that he liked me in a romantic way.

  Crap. What if this screwed up our friendship? Brian needed that anchor, and I did too.

  He was still closeted. He had his dad to deal with. And he was recovering from being shot. He didn’t need any more pressure. And I didn’t want to come off all needy and starry-eyed like I was desperate for him. Because that was not a good look.

  “If you give me a score, I’m going to have to hurt you,” I joked.

  “Oh, I already did. But it’s a secret,” he joked back.

  “Ass.”

  “Loser.”

  We looked at each other and smiled. And it felt all right.

  “Hey. What happens in Chattanooga, stays in Chattanooga,” I said, holding out a fist.

  Brian bumped it. “Thanks. But I have the feeling this thing with my dad is gonna blow up one way or the other.”

  He was probably right. It was worrying that he’d had to lie about the weekend. “If it does, you have me, and Madison and Josiah, and my parents too. They adore you. You know that.”

  “They’re great. I can’t figure out how they didn’t give birth to a more interesting person.”

  That made me laugh. “Ha-ha. You’re so funny.”

  Brian grinned. “So are we gonna watch something or not? We’ve still got a few episodes of Dark Tourist to go, right?”

  An episode of watching someone swim in an irradiated lake and nearly get thrown in a foreign prison was just what I needed to cool down and get my mind off certain subjects.

  Brian fell asleep while the show was still playing.

  Chapter 15

  Brian

  “MY NAME is Brian Marshall, and I was in the cafeteria at The Wall on September 28th. A bullet went through a water fountain and the corner of a wall to strike me in the back. I would have died if it weren’t for Landon putting pressure on my wound and talking to me. I lost my best friend, Jake, that day. He was shot in the back while he was running away. And I saw a lot of kids die right in front of me.”

  My words were rough, but not as shaky as I would have expected. There were murmurs of regret and sympathy around the circle. Madison, sitting to my right, hugged me, and then, surprisingly, Josiah, on my left, did too. Landon was on the other side of the circle, co-chairing the group, but his gaze burned into mine.

  There were sixteen of us teens in the conference room—seven students from The Wall, six from Parkland, and three from a high school in Chattanooga who asked if they could sit in. A dozen parents hung out in the back of the room, including Landon’s mom.

  “I’m Madison O’Reilly,” Madison said. “I was in the auditorium when the active shooter announcement came over the PA. Our Drama class got out through an exit backstage, and we were okay. But I was terrified for my friends. I don’t think I’ll ever feel safe in a public building again. Or anywhere, really.”

  She put her hand in mine. I squeezed it.

  The girl to Madison’s right went next.

  It was the first time I’d talked about what happened in front of a group. It was hard to say the words, but there was a power in admitting it, like it didn’t mean I was weak or broken. It didn’t mean I’d done something wrong.

  Story after story poured out. Face after face was washed with pain.

  “I was shot through a window and—”

  “I held my girlfriend while she—”

  “I hid in a cabinet and saw the gunman’s shoes. I thought—”

  I really thought I was going to die.

  My heart grew full and hot, as if a burning rock had replaced the beating muscle in my chest. At some point I realized I was holding Josiah’s hand too, he and Maddy on either side. For the first time, it felt like maybe they were my friends and not just Landon’s.

  So many of these kids had had the worst thing possible happen to them. I could look at them and know, without any question, that they had been victims, pure and simple. No matter what they had done to survive, they were blameless. Maybe there was no rhyme or reason to why they were sitting there when others had died—

  Why I was sitting there when Jake had died.

  —but I was so glad they’d survived. And maybe feeling compassion for them, I could feel some for myself? Landon had told me basically that same thing a half-dozen times. But it was easier to believe it for someone else.

  Seeing others still struggling made me feel less weak.

  After everyone had spoken, Landon stood up. There was a big flip-chart notebook on an easel at the head of the circle, and he turned to a page with a bulleted list.

  “Again, I’m Landon from The Wall, and we’re just really stoked you guys from Parkland could meet with us this weekend. And the students from Chattanooga School for the Arts and Sciences too. I’ve been talking to some of you on Twitter, and there’s so much we can learn from your experiences. And I feel like if we band together, we can all have a bigger impact. So in the interest of trying to get through a whole lot of material in one day, w
e came up with this agenda.”

  Madison let go of my hand to get out a notebook and take notes. Josiah let go too, looking at me with a troubled sigh before folding his legs up in his chair and settling back to listen.

  I was surprised Landon had everything so organized, because he hadn’t talked about it with me. But then again, I wasn’t surprised at all. He’d been focused on this for weeks.

  The Parkland students outlined the work they’d been doing, the town halls, bus tour, marches, and voter registration drives. They talked about their encounters with Second Amendment peeps, and how they usually found they weren’t so far apart if they could speak face-to-face about commonsense gun laws.

  That made me think about my dad and Bull, about how much they hated these kids. It was so unbelievable and so unfair. Everyone in this room was impressive as fuck. I wondered what would happen if my dad were here. Would he be able to just listen? To let himself feel their sincerity and their heart?

  Probably not. And that made me feel incredibly sad.

  At lunch there was pizza, and we took a break to eat. I wandered over to where Landon was talking to a dark-haired guy. Landon smiled at me and introduced us. The guy been shot multiple times, and he’d had three surgeries so far. I shook his hand, which was cool and soft. For some reason, tears came to my eyes when I did that. I wanted to tell him I thought he was brave, but I didn’t trust my voice.

  “How are you holding up?” Landon asked after the guy wandered off.

  “I’m okay. You?”

  His eyes were glowing with purpose. “I’m great. This is going well, don’t you think? I mean, it’s hard. But it’s amazing to meet these guys in person. To have a chance to coordinate.”

  “Yeah. I’m really glad I came.”

  He blinked and looked at me more closely, his smile fading. “You sure you’re okay? You sound a little….”

  “I’m good,” I said. “It’s just a lot.”

  “I know.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “If you need to step out—”

  “No. Hell, no. I wouldn’t miss it.” I tried to think of a way to explain. “It’s like… pulling out a splinter. Or making a cut and letting some of the poison drip out. It hurts, but it’s good. You know?”

  He gave me a fond, puzzled smile. “Such a poet.”

  “Shut up. Splinters are not poetic.”

  A blonde girl from the Chattanooga group came up to us, her eyes red and puffy. “Sorry to interrupt. Brian, I wanted to say that you remind me so much of my brother. He played football and graduated last year, and I could totally see him going through what you went through. I’m so sorry for what happened.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  “Can I give you guys a hug?” she asked, wiping her cheeks.

  Landon hugged her, a long, warm hug of the type only he could give. Then I hugged her. She started crying again.

  “I wish more people from my school had come,” she said, swallowing her tears. “But we’ll take this back with us and make them understand. I swear, we will.”

  Landon gave her a sad smile. “Thanks. I’m so glad you guys came today.”

  Landon’s mom came up to us with two plates. “I grabbed you boys some pizza before it all vanished.”

  “Thanks, Mom.” Landon took a plate loaded with two slices of pepperoni.

  She held out a plate to me with a single slice of cheese. “Can you have cheese pizza, honey? I wasn’t sure.”

  “Nah, I’ve got crackers and stuff.”

  “You sure?” She looked worried. “What else can I get you? There’s a restaurant in the hotel. I could get you some soup or maybe mac and cheese?”

  She was so nice. “I don’t think I could eat right now. But thank you.”

  My gut felt like a tangle of knots at the moment. No way could I deal with food.

  She left, and Landon watched me while he chewed a big bite of pizza. He swallowed. “Want a little taste?” He held the slice out to me.

  I looked at his lips. I did want a taste, but not of the pizza. When I looked back up at his eyes, his cheeks had gone pink.

  “Maybe later,” I said, my voice husky.

  Landon cleared his throat and looked away.

  That afternoon was more of a strategy session. Everyone brainstormed things we could do to promote better gun-control laws, get through to politicians, and drive teens to vote.

  I zoned out because there was so much going on inside my head. As I looked around, a feeling grew inside me that was almost too big to contain. I guess it was one of those epiphany moments.

  The thing was, I loved these people.

  I’d always admired the fuck out of Landon. I’d thought he was so mature and serious and kind. But now I saw he wasn’t the only one. It seemed like everyone in the room was like that. Not that they weren’t ordinary teenagers who probably had their own hang-ups and issues, bitched at their moms, and partied too much. But they were smart and aware and dedicated to something greater.

  And I wanted that. I wanted to live for something beyond myself. Do something with my life. I felt like… like these were my people. This was where I belonged. Where I wanted to be. Who I wanted to be.

  I watched Landon writing a bullet point on the huge notepad, his tongue poking out in concentration, his brow furrowed studiously. My heart thumped like a dog’s tail in my chest at the sight of him, at the memory of how unbelievably right it had felt when he’d kissed me.

  This was the person I wanted to be with.

  Yeah. Yeah. Absolutely.

  A wave of gratitude swamped me. Because not everyone finds those things, figures themselves out. I know because I’d been half-living for a long time. And I promised myself, right there, right then, that I was gonna become that guy. And nothing was going to stop me.

  Chapter 16

  Brian

  THANKSGIVING WEEK we had school Monday through Wednesday. Landon and I hadn’t had any time alone since his mom dropped me off at my house on Sunday night. I guess we both needed time to process that kiss. Or maybe we were both ignoring the huge-ass elephant in the room. Hopefully over Thanksgiving break we’d get a chance to talk about it. Or, better yet, just make out some more.

  Meanwhile, the meeting with the Parkland kids had fired me up again. Their shooter had been caught the day of the tragedy. So they were free to focus on the big picture. That’s what Landon was doing. But I felt like I couldn’t do that, couldn’t even start to get a handle on my own PTSD, when I knew those two assholes were out there.

  How could I convince my brain not to be afraid when they could show up again at any moment? My brain is not stupid.

  On Monday after lunch, Landon took off, and Madison, Josiah, and I walked back from the football bleachers. Josiah cleared his throat. “You’re in C-Wing next?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Me too.”

  He walked right next to me, like he was going to walk there with me. Which was new. Madison veered off to D-Wing, and Josiah and I went on in awkward silence.

  “Have you heard anything more about that goth kid, Dixon Adams?” I asked.

  “Someone said the police have talked to him,” Josiah said in a low voice.

  “I thought the police talked to everyone.”

  “Yeah, but, like, specifically to him. I told you, he was MIA after second period. He could totes have done it.”

  I thought so too. Dixon was my top suspect. He had long, straight hair down to his waist, dyed ink-black. He wore black everything, usually heavy metal T-shirts, jeans, and combat boots. The shooters had been wearing black combat boots too. He had piercings and gauges, and his skin was vampire white.

  I normally wouldn’t care if someone dressed like that. I had nothing against goths. I know it’s all window dressing. But there were too many suspicious things about Dixon.

  “He’s in my Biology class,” I said. “Right after school started, we had to dissect frogs. And he made one ‘hop around’ with two fingers and held it on his face. H
e even licked it.”

  Josiah made a gagging gesture. “That’s disgusting. Like, you could die from that. Don’t they say serial killers start out by hurting animals?”

  “Exactly! Though, to be fair, the frog was already dead.”

  “Still. Being comfortable with corpses. That’s totes a sign. And I heard one girl say she heard someone else say Dixon swore he was gonna fuck up the school.”

  I looked at Josiah sharply. “You think he really said that?”

  He shrugged. “Dude, I dunno. I played telephone at a party once with, like, a tin can, and Backstreet Boys ended up as black meat joy. Which actually makes sense. But that’s not the point.”

  That made me laugh. We got to the doorway of my Biology class. Josiah nodded his chin. “See ya, Brian.”

  “Hey, hold up.”

  Josiah turned and looked at me. I still wasn’t sure what to make of him. Mostly I got the vibe he didn’t trust me, didn’t want me around, though he’d been nicer since that group session in Chattanooga.

  “So. Um. Landon said Cameron and Gordo picked on you a lot. Serious shit.”

  Josiah’s jaw tightened, and his eyes went cold. “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not friends with them anymore, but I’m sorry they did that. I knew they could be assholes. I shouldn’t have hung around with them.”

  He stared at me.

  “Jake didn’t, though, right?” I asked him.

  I don’t know why it mattered now, to know that Jake hadn’t been a bad guy. But it did. I still missed him. Sometimes so much there was a hollow ache that made me feel sick inside. I wanted to know he’d been the person I thought he was.

  “Jake never fucked with me,” Josiah said carefully.

  I heaved a sigh of relief. “Good.”

  Josiah started to walk away, but then turned back. “Hey, quarterback. I’ve decided you’re not the worst person in the world.”

  I nodded. “Cool.”

  “Cool,” he said, and he headed off down the hall.

  When I went into class, I saw Dixon at a lab table in the back of the room. On impulse, I wandered out in the hall again until the bell rang and then went in at the last second. Sure enough, he didn’t have a partner at his table and everyone else was paired up and couldn’t invite me to sit with them.